The Absentee eBook

’My lady, the reception-room has been lately
painted—­the smell of paint may be disagreeable;
with your leave, I will take the liberty of showing
you into my master’s study.’

He opened the door, went in before her, and stood
holding up his finger, as if making a signal of silence
to some one within. Her ladyship entered, and
found herself in the midst of an odd assembly:
an eagle, a goat, a dog, an otter, several gold and
silver fish in a glass globe, and a white mouse in
a cage. The eagle, quick of eye but quiet of
demeanour, was perched upon his stand; the otter lay
under the table, perfectly harmless; the Angora goat,
a beautiful and remarkably little creature of its
kind, with long, curling, silky hair, was walking about
the room with the air of a beauty and a favourite;
the dog, a tall Irish greyhound—­one of
the few of that fine race which is now almost extinct—­had
been given to Count O’Halloran by an Irish nobleman,
a relation of Lady Dashfort’s. This dog,
who had formerly known her ladyship, looked at her
with ears erect, recognised her, and went to meet
her the moment she entered. The servant answered
for the peaceable behaviour of all the rest of the
company of animals, and retired. Lady Dashfort
began to feed the eagle from a silver plate on his
stand; Lord Colambre examined the inscription on his
collar; the other men stood in amaze. Heathcock,
who came in last, astonished out of his constant ‘Eh!
re’lly now!’ the moment he put himself
in at the door, exclaimed, ‘Zounds! what’s
all this live lumber?’ and he stumbled over the
goat, who was at that moment crossing the way.
The colonel’s spur caught in the goat’s
curly beard; the colonel shook his foot, and entangled
the spur worse and worse; the goat struggled and butted;
the colonel skated forward on the polished oak floor,
balancing himself with outstretched arms.

The indignant eagle screamed, and, passing by, perched
on Heathcock’s shoulders. Too well-bred
to have recourse to the terrors of his beak, he scrupled
not to scream, and flap his wings about the colonel’s
ears. Lady Dashfort, the while, threw herself
back in her chair, laughing, and begging Heathcock’s
pardon. ‘Oh, take care of the dog, my dear
colonel!’ cried she; ’for this kind of
dog seizes his enemy by the back, and shakes him to
death.’ The officers, holding their sides,
laughed, and begged—­no pardon; while Lord
Colambre, the only person who was not absolutely incapacitated,
tried to disentangle the spur, and to liberate the
colonel from the goat, and the goat from the colonel;
an attempt in which he at last succeeded, at the expense
of a considerable portion of the goat’s beard.
The eagle, however, still kept his place; and, yet
mindful of the wrongs of his insulted friend the goat,
had stretched his wings to give another buffet.
Count O’Halloran entered; and the bird, quitting
his prey, flew down to greet his master. The count
was a fine old military-looking gentleman, fresh from
the chace: his hunting accoutrements hanging
carelessly about him, he advanced, unembarrassed,
to the lady; and received his other guests with a mixture
of military ease and gentleman-like dignity.